To My Great-Uncle Wilford

This morning I got up with the sun and went for a run/walk.  I went to the beach for the weekend (sort of against my better judgment) and felt some sadness this morning that I had removed myself from all of the wonderful memorials this city has to offer on such an important weekend.  I felt a great desire to go to the WWII memorial to lay a flower at the base of the Utah pillar in honor of my great-uncle Wilford, but instead I made do with a walk in solitude.

Uncle Wilford was only 19 when he fought in the Battle of the Bulge in WWII.  He was my maternal grandmother's brother.  She didn't talk about him a lot, but when she did it was always with love and a little bit of sadness.  Whenever I think about Wilford, I think about how much life was lost so young.  I tried to picture what it would be like to lose a brother in war, and thought about how many people are living that reality today.  I felt gratitude this morning for the service the military renders, but also thought about a day when wars won't be fought, when there will be peace on earth, and wondered how that will ever happen.  And when.

I didn't make it to the memorial today, but I will this week and will take a moment to pause under Utah, to say a prayer for peace, and leave something in remembrance of Uncle Wilford's sacrifice.  I am grateful for the knowledge of eternal families so that I can hold on to the hope of meeting Uncle Wilford someday.